Renee Ryan (10 page)

The drone of the other diners’ conversations drummed in his ears, but his focus stayed on Annabeth. She walked slightly in front of him, her spine erect, her head high. There was so much strength in her, strength of character, strength of conviction.

He was blessed to have her in his life.
His daughter’s life,
he mentally corrected.

This meeting today was not about him, or this beautiful woman. It was about Sarah. Everything he did from this point forward had to be about his daughter.

At last, they arrived at their table.

Once they were alone, with menus placed before them, Hunter took Annabeth’s hand. “I haven’t thanked you properly for all you’ve done for my daughter.”

Her mouth formed a perfect O. “I...I didn’t do it for you.”

His conviction increased, conviction to do right by his daughter. And Annabeth. “Nevertheless, thank you.”

“No need to thank me. Sarah shares my blood. Not as much as yours, that’s true.” She pulled her hand free. “But she’s my family, too.”

She tried to mask her emotions with a smile, but the smile never made it past her lips. He recognized the loneliness in her eyes. The sadness. The grief.

Because he knew exactly how she felt, he gentled his voice. “Come with us to the Flying M.”

He saw the hope in her, the eagerness to accept his request. But, again, she tried to mask her emotions with a bland smile. So much pride in the woman, so much bravado.

He should know. Like recognized like.

“Sarah needs you, Annabeth.”
I need you, too.
“I’m ill-equipped to raise a young girl on my own.”

She was shaking her head before he even finished speaking. “You won’t be on your own, Hunter. You’ll have your entire family to help you. Brothers. Sisters. Both of your parents.”

Such brave words, but her voice hitched over the majority of her little speech. “You’re Sarah’s aunt, equal in stature as any of my siblings, more so because of the past year.”

“Where would we live?” she asked. “With your parents?”

“At first. But not indefinitely. There’s a cabin on the north range that will suit our needs until I’m able to build a larger house for the family.”

He had her. He heard it in her sharp gasp, saw it in the dreamy look she couldn’t quite hide from him.

“Say yes, Annabeth.” Taking her hand again, he rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. “Say you’ll continue to be a part of my daughter’s life.”
And mine.

The waiter chose that moment to return to their table. Annabeth shot the man a scowl full of female frustration. “We aren’t ready to order just yet.”

Clearly baffled, the man’s eyes shifted to Hunter. He dismissed the waiter with a curt nod. “We’ll let you know when we’ve made our decisions.”

“Very well, sir.”

By the time the young man scurried off, Annabeth had freed her hand again and was sitting back in her chair. She made a grand show of placing her napkin in her lap. “Regardless of how I personally feel on the matter, leaving Charity House presents certain difficulties.”

“Such as?”

“I have responsibilities at the school.”

“They can find another teacher.”

“Perhaps.” She picked up a fork and twirled it around in her palm. “Perhaps not. It’s not an ordinary school. Marc and Laney can’t simply put an advertisement in the
Denver Chronicle
and expect a horde of applicants.”

Of course not. But they had other resources, with contacts all over the territory. Annabeth was making excuses. And Hunter knew why. “You’re afraid.”

The fork in her hand stilled. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?”

“I...” Her gaze shot around the room, landing everywhere but on him. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

Something in him shattered, because he knew what was really holding her back. “Annabeth, look at me.”

She slowly did as he requested.

“I’m not asking you to play any role in my home other than tutor and guardian to my daughter.”

She simply stared at him. Surely she understood what he was saying. Surely he wouldn’t have to spell out the obvious.

Apparently, he did.

“I don’t expect you to become my housekeeper, or my—” he paused, held her stare, lowered his voice so the other diners wouldn’t hear him “—mistress.”

The fork slipped from her fingers and tumbled to the table with a hard clank. “I should think not. On either account.”

Her embarrassment was endearing. He nearly stepped away from the conversation, but this topic needed to be addressed, now, before they moved on to the other, less unpleasant particulars of their arrangement.

“I was thinking we would hire a housekeeper, an older woman who would live with us. A working chaperone, of sorts.” He reached for her hand again, then decided touching her was a bad idea, considering. “Your reputation will remain above reproach.”

“You’d do that for me? You’d hire a housekeeper just to spare my reputation?” He wasn’t sure what he heard in her tone. Relief? Gratitude?

“That’s one of the details I thought we might work out together. I expect you’d want a say in choosing the person I hire, especially since you’d spend much of the day with her.”

Interest fell across her face. She opened her mouth to respond but stopped at the sound of a commotion breaking out at the front of the restaurant. Conversations around them halted momentarily, then picked up again with alarming speed.

Hunter caught sight of the cause for all the whispered speculation and inwardly groaned. Mattie Silks had decided to deign them with her presence, wearing highly inappropriate attire for the afternoon—black lace over red silk, gaudy jewelry and maternal outrage.

The thunderous scowl on her face, focused solely on Hunter, said it all. She’d heard about his offer to her daughter. The inevitable confrontation had arrived. He was ready. But was Annabeth? It was a bit too late, if she wasn’t.

Bracing for impact, he pulled a palm down over his mouth. “We have company.”

Annabeth glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, dear.”

Indeed.

Chapter Ten

A
nnabeth swallowed a groan. Her stomach flooded with trepidation, with dread, with sheer, raw panic. The sensation climbed to her throat and squeezed. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stop shaking. Mattie was here—in the restaurant—bearing down on their table with unmistakable intent in her eyes.

What was she thinking? One wrong word, one slip of the tongue, and everyone in the restaurant would know they were related. Again...

What
was she thinking?

That was just it, Annabeth realized. Mattie wasn’t thinking. She was acting. On impulse. And outrage.

The restaurant and all the patrons faded from Annabeth’s consciousness, leaving nothing but Mattie.

She knew that look on her mother’s face. She was here to cause a scene. The thought snapped Annabeth’s spine straight.

“We’re in for it, now,” Hunter said with an amused twist of his lips.

He thought this was funny?

How could he find this situation amusing? How could he be so calm when Mattie’s very presence had disaster written all over it?

Rounding a crowded expanse of tables, Mattie avoided the maître d’hôtel’s attempt to grab hold of her arm—for the third time—and charged onward. She hopped to her left, dodged to her right. She didn’t seem to notice the whispers that followed her, or perhaps she didn’t care about the speculation.

Which made no sense.

When it came to Annabeth, Mattie always noticed the whispers. And she always,
always
cared about the speculation.

Mattie must be extremely upset to put Annabeth in such a precarious situation, especially when she’d gone to such lengths to keep her safe from the gossips through the years.

As soon as the thought took hold, another, more dreadful one emerged. What if, in an attempt to give Annabeth no other choice than to return to Boston, Mattie revealed their connection today? No decent man would have her then, not one who lived in Denver, anyway.

Surely, her mother would never be that shortsighted, that cruel.
Please, Lord, let me be wrong.

Mattie skidded to a stop beside Hunter and growled at him. She actually growled!

The maître d’ caught hold of her arm and yanked. “Miss Silks.” He yanked again, harder. “You cannot be in the main dining room, not without a reservation.”

Mattie flicked off the man’s grip as though he were a troublesome bug. He sputtered in outrage, then resorted to speaking in a mixture of French and accented English, his tiny little mustache twitching furiously as he spoke.

“Enough,” Mattie snapped. “Not another word out of you.”

He fell instantly silent under the imperious order, perhaps too shocked to continue.

“As for you, Hunter Mitchell, you have some nerve.” Jamming her hands on her hips, Mattie leaned over him until her nose practically touched his. “I expected better of you.”

He remained perfectly still, his power humming below the surface of his calm but contained nonetheless. “Now, Mattie—”

“And you.”
She spun to face Annabeth, her voice lowering to a hiss. “How could you be so careless? Your...mother would be appalled at your behavior, dining with this man in front of all and sundry.”

Whispers exploded around them. The other diners speculated behind their hands over how Mattie knew the two at the table, Annabeth in particular.

Annabeth stifled another groan.

Mattie sauntered over to the closest table and glared the entirety of gawkers into silence.

Taking charge, Hunter stood to his feet. The move drew Mattie’s attention back in his direction.

“Miss Silks.” He bowed at the waist, all politeness and good manners. “Would you do us the honor of joining Annabeth and me for luncheon? We were just about to place our orders.”

Mattie opened her mouth. “Now see here—”

Hunter cut her off with an imperceptible shake of his head. The gesture only seemed to antagonize her further. “Don’t you shake your head at me, Hunter Mitchell, as if I were a—”

“Think, Mattie.” He took her arm and pulled her gently back toward their table. “
Think
about where you are, and why.”

“Release me this minute.” She jerked out of his grip. “I will not be manhandled by you, or anyone else. I—”

He talked right over her. “Mattie. Have a care. You are on the verge of making a grave error in judgment.”

“I—”

He leaned over her and continued speaking in a much softer tone, so soft Annabeth couldn’t quite make what he was saying, which meant no one else could, either.

Whatever words he used, Mattie’s fury seemed to lessen, ever-so-slightly, enough to make her snap her mouth shut. For a total of three lengthy seconds.

Then...

“Since you asked so nicely, yes, Hunter, I would very much like to join you and your guest for luncheon.”

Annabeth fought back a sigh. She had a bad feeling about this. But she knew that short of being bodily removed from the premises, Mattie was here to stay. Hunter must have known this as well, hence his attempt to contain the problem to their table as quickly as possible.

Full of masculine confidence, he smiled broadly, the gesture all but transforming his face, and turned to the maître d’hôtel. “Miss Silks has graciously agreed to dine with us.”

“But, sir, I don’t think—”

“If you would be so kind as to round up another chair and place-setting we would be grateful.” Hunter lowered his voice. “It is for the best.”

“Yes, sir, I... At once.” With a resigned sigh, the maître d’hôtel nodded at a passing waiter and set about carrying out Hunter’s request.

For her part, Annabeth could only watch the two men bustle around their table in speechless wonder. Hunter had just defused an emotionally charged situation with efficient speed.

More than that, he was treating her mother with genuine respect, and a level of kindness she didn’t deserve at the moment. Not many people would be so generous to a woman like Mattie Silks, bad mood or not, and that included her own daughter.

Hunter was proving better than them all.

Guard your heart, Annabeth.

Drawing her bottom lip between her teeth, she cast sidelong glances at the other diners in the restaurant. Praise the Lord. They were fast losing interest now that Mattie was calmly allowing their waiter to settle her at the table. In fact, most had already gone back to their own conversations.

With a deep sigh of relief, Annabeth glanced back at her mother. Her embarrassment immediately evaporated, replaced by a wave of concern. Mattie looked especially tired this afternoon. She kept a brutal pace most days, and nights, never taking time off for herself. Her schedule would make any woman look weary.

Unfortunately, Annabeth sensed this recent change in her mother’s appearance was due solely to her.

Was Mattie that upset over Annabeth’s desire to care for Sarah? Or was there something else bothering her, something that had more to do with Sarah’s father?

The waiter set the final piece of silverware on the table and then snapped to attention. “Are you ready to order, sir?”

Hunter focused on Annabeth, a question in his eyes. “Shall I order for the table?”

“Please.” She didn’t especially care what he ordered, or so she told herself, but when he chose Apricot Chicken a soft gasp escaped from her lips.

He looked back at her. “No?”

“Oh, please.” Mattie rolled her eyes. “Apricot Chicken is her favorite dish.”

“You don’t say.” He smiled, looking rather pleased with himself. Annabeth was rather pleased with him, too.

She returned his smile. Something not altogether unpleasant passed between them.

“Oh, no. No, no.” With a swoop, Mattie’s shoulders slumped forward. “It’s worse than I thought.”

The moment the waiter took his leave, Annabeth asked, “What’s worse than you thought?”

“Must you ask?” Mattie’s tone was not unkind. But there was sadness beneath the words. “I had hoped I was wrong. But I see I have acted too late.”

Confused, Annabeth glanced to Hunter for help. He lifted a shoulder, clearly as baffled as she.

“Again, Mattie, what are you talking about?”

With pursed lips, her mother reached for her glass of water, took a sip, then set it back down with a shaky hand.

“Mattie.” Hunter reached out, stopped just short of touching her. “What’s gotten you so upset?”

Her expression turned accusatory, a look full of quiet contempt. “I understand you have asked Annabeth to live with you.”

“I suppose that’s one way to look at it.” He flattened his palm on the table. “The wrong way. I have asked Annabeth to come away with Sarah and me as my daughter’s—”

“I don’t want to hear this from you.” She deliberately turned her back on him then glared at Annabeth. “You couldn’t have bothered telling me yourself? I had to find this out on my own?”

Annabeth didn’t ask the obvious question: How did Mattie know about Hunter’s offer? Her mother had eyes and ears all over town.

Feelings of guilt swamped her. She should have told Mattie. But she hadn’t wanted a fight. More the fool, her. She was getting a battle, anyway, in a very public manner. “I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”

“But you will. Because of Sarah.” Mattie’s fingers tapped out an erratic rhythm on the table. “And him. You’re going to throw away your future on—” she hitched her chin in Hunter’s direction “—him.”

“It’s not like that between Hunter and me,” Annabeth assured her mother, desperate to find the words to make her understand this was about Sarah.
Sarah.
“Tell her, Hunter.”

“It’s not like that between us,” he repeated in a bland voice.

Mattie snorted, refusing to acknowledge him.

“Now, Mattie, don’t pretend you can’t hear me.”

She smoothed out a wrinkle on her shoulder.

“I know you’re listening,” he said to the back of her head.

She gave another inelegant snort.

“I’ve always admired your courage,” he said sincerely.

“Hmmpf.”

“You’re a survivor, doing whatever it takes to make a living in a hard world. You have a good heart, Mattie Silks.”

“Haven’t you heard?” She flicked a curl off her forehead. “I am not good, or soft, or even nice. I run a brothel. My soul is quite black, beyond redeeming.”

“No soul is beyond redeeming.” He spoke forcibly, as if speaking as much to himself as to her.

Annabeth’s heart clutched. He was right, but she didn’t attempt to join in the conversation. Who better than Hunter to have this conversation with her mother? Who better to understand the Lord’s love for the lost, than this man?

“You’re delusional, Hunter Mitchell.” At last, Mattie looked at him. “Ask any of the churchgoing folk in this city, they’ll tell you who and what I am.”

Annabeth had never seen her mother like this. She looked and sounded so...so...beaten.

Was Mattie ashamed of the profession she’d chosen? She’d never let on, not once. And if she really was ashamed, why not change her ways?

“You might not live a clean life,” Hunter agreed. “But the Lord knows who you are, deep down, under all that bluster. He sees all of you and still loves you.”

Mattie gazed up at the ceiling, her eyes blinking rapidly. “You can keep your fancy church words and charming smile for some other fool woman. I remain unmoved.”

Hunter’s lips twitched, but his tone remained serious, low, meant only for the people at their table. “Because of your example, Annabeth has grown into a strong, good-hearted woman of integrity who knows her own mind. She’s an excellent role model to the children at Charity House, and to my daughter. I’m grateful to her.” He paused. “And to you.”

“Me?”

He took her hand, holding steady when she tried to wrestle free. “Thank you, Mattie.”

“Oh, honestly, you are such a man.” She swiped at her cheek. “Full of balderdash and too much charm for your own good.”

Chuckling softly, he pulled her hand to his lips and pressed a light kiss just above her knuckles. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“It was meant as one, you big, handsome brute.”

Winking at Annabeth, he let go of Mattie’s hand. “Are we friends again?”

Clicking her tongue at him, she made a grand show of adjusting her collar. “You’re a pushy, pushy man with no sense to stop while he’s ahead.”

“I like to think of myself as determined.”

“I have another term for what you are.” She plucked at his sleeve, then smoothed her hand across the length of his forearm. “But it isn’t fit for mixed company.”

“Best keep it to yourself, then.”

She pursed her lips. “Naturally.”

It was Annabeth’s turn to blink in astonishment. Hunter had calmed Mattie’s temper and had kept her from revealing...well, much of anything.

He really was a sweet, wonderful, dangerous man.

And she needed to turn the conversation back to the important matter at hand. “Mattie, I’m sorry you found out about my arrangement with Hunter from someone other than me.”

“As you should be.”

“Yes, well, the point is that I didn’t tell you because he only asked me to leave with him and Sarah yesterday.” And now she was rationalizing.
Badly done, Annabeth.
“I haven’t yet decided if I will take him up on his offer. There are certain factors to consider.”

She looked at Hunter then. His gaze appeared impassive, but there was something explosive contained in all that stillness.

He needs me.

The truth settled in her heart. And that was how she knew. She
knew
she would go with him. Not only for Sarah’s sake. But for his, too.

And maybe, Annabeth realized with a start, even her own.

* * *

Caught in Annabeth’s gaze, Hunter felt a rush of some strong emotion he couldn’t define, didn’t dare define.

Attraction? Definitely.

Guilt?
Most
definitely.

He reminded himself she wasn’t the woman he should be thinking of, yearning for with every breath, as though he’d been waiting for her to come into his life and she was finally here. The dream of finding a woman to love—as a man loved his wife—was over, dead and buried, murdered by Cole Kincaid.